The Vig

Here’s a bizarre story out of the NBA. The Hawks and Heat will be re-play the final :51 of a December game before their March 8th game in Atlanta. From the AOL FanHouse:

Shaquille O’Neal fouled out with 51 seconds left with the Heat down by one point; the Hawks went on to win in overtime. Video evidence and the first set of scoresheets released by Atlanta staff showed O’Neal’s fifth foul should have been called on Udonis Haslem. That first scoresheet showed Shaq ending the game with five fouls. That would have kept Shaq in the game for the final minute. Immediately after the game ended, the scorers modified the sheet to change the Haslem foul to one on O’Neal. The Heat protested. The league has found in favor of the Heat, fining the Hawks and setting up a do-over of the final 51.9 seconds of the game, with O’Neal eligible.

Wow.  Normally a league will tell the protesting team to stick such protests in their ear, but the Hawks could be in playoff contention and such a goof could screw things up.  So good for Stern for doing something the NFL would never dream of.

The Greg Oden injury put Portland front and center on the sports map last week. Outlets from ESPN, to Sports Illustrated, to AOL, to The Big Lead were chock full of commentary on the injury and what it means to the Blazer franchise. Knees and micro-fracture surgery both give fans the heebie jeebies and when its your franchise savior who’s knee just had the micro-fracture performed…well, pardon us if we go a little overboard.

Casey Holdahl had an excellent rundown of local and national reaction on Friday. Much ink was spilled and bandwidth consumed. One link Holdahl left out was Canzano. JC, as is his habit, zigged when the rest of the nation zagged. Rather than give us any insight into what happened or thoughts about where we go from here, Canzano gave us The Birdman. I don’t get it. JC gets 750 words three-times-a-week to talk sports. Instead, more often than not, he’s giving us “life lessons”.

Like the time earlier this summer when he was dispatched to the All-Star Game in San Francisco and came back with the story of Anne Marie Feigner. There were so many other things to talk about down there. Ichiro. Bonds. Heck. Even a column about how the Giants stabbed the A’s in the back and forced them into the South Bay would have been an interesting story. At least that would have justified the expense of sending him down.

There are countless other examples of Canzano writing about down on their luck sports fans, imploring us to write checks and send donations. I’m getting really tired of it. The Oregonian is a big paper, filled with reporters and columnists who’s job it is to give me “perspective.” Now they’re letting their #1 sports columnist become Margie Boulé-lite.

Add to that the fact Canzano’s now moonlighting as talk show host for the Paul Allen owned KXL. I’ve commented on the strained ethics of the deal elsewhere. No one has come up with a satisfactory explanation as to why it’s alright to take a paycheck from an organization you’re being paid by someone else to cover, but whatever. JC says he has complete editorial control, so I guess I’ll believe him. I do wonder though about the timing of the deep tongue kiss he gave the Blazers just before his radio show started. Will he continue to play footsie with the Blazers in print while chiding them on the radio? How long Fred and Sandy will put up with that?

I left a comment on his blog wondering whether his status as a Vulcan employee was clouding the content of his column (djsaladplate, an homage to another local sports guy’s recent weight loss, will now be retired in favor of the much simpler snethen). You’ll have to trust me on that. Seems JC edited that part out, then called me his friend. The comment, as I recall, was something to the effect of “nothing to see here, so says the Blazer employee/Oregonian columnist.” Pretty tame, if you ask me. I’ve left other comments for him, all as djsaladplate, suggesting a local Murrow Award winning journalist might be better suited to cover his subject matter and could we please get back to talking sports. Those have never made the cut.

Having blogged for nearly 4 years now, I can say I’ve whacked my share of comments. I’ve even banned a guy who can’t get it through his head that this isn’t Romper Room. I’ve yet to edit any comment that’s taken a direct shot at me though. You’re either in or you’re out (mostly in, unless your curse). Deleting a comment is one thing, but editing a comment to make yourself look better is not cool. Welcome to Canzano’s world.

My time as a sports fan is limited. I’m not alone in making that observation. I’m getting tired of turning on my radio or opening my paper hoping I’ll find commentary on my favorite team only to be greeted with Debbie Downer or worse. If Canzano wants to be Steve Duin, then by all means go be Steve Duin. There are hundreds of young hungry journalists out there who would kill to write a regular sports column. Maybe it’s time to give one of them a shot and let Canzano go chase his dream.

Update:  You can check out some contrary views here and here.

The new owners of the Portland Beavers have been sponsoring a “name that team” contest through their website. Seems Merritt Paulson doesn’t think we in the Beaver State can tell the difference between the Oregon State Beavers and the Portland Beavers. The finalists for the new nickname include the GreenSox, Sockeyes, Thorns, and WetSox. None are worthy. Although Sockeyes would be a tremendous college nickname, but I don’t want to reopen that old wound.

The voting site has been the butt of more than a few Internet jokes, having been picked up by both AOL’s excellent FanHouse blog and Deadspin. Both features likely resulted in a significant skewing of the results by out-of-towners. My problem with it is they force me to vote for each name in order of preference. So do you vote for the Beavers #1 all fve times? Or the Beavers #1 then all four other options as #5? Because there’s no way I’m picking one of those names over the other.

Enter the sixth choice. Dwight Jaynes had an interesting thought in today’s column.

Everyone seems to want our Triple-A baseball team to keep Beavers as its nickname. One of the big reasons is that the nicknames on the list the team has offered are so uninspiring. I mean, Sockeyes? Come on.

The most controversial name suggestion I’ve heard didn’t seem to make the final cut, but it’s sure to spark the most debate around the office water cooler.

That would be the Portland Homers – and no, not named directly after the four-bagger. It’s the idea of making the nickname and mascot the main character from “The Simpsons,” created by native son Matt Groening.

To do it up right and use Homer’s likeness, you’d need permission, I assume –and that probably would hinge on whether the Lincoln High grad spent much time hanging out at the ballpark down the street from his alma mater.

Funny thing about this choice – a lot of people under 35 think it’s, well, a home run. The older ones think it’s totally silly.

No. No. No! As I commented down below, if we’re going Simpsons, the only proper answer is the Portland Nahasapeemapetilons. Imagine putting THAT across your chest.

Listen. Merritt. Don’t mess with the name. It’s been tried before with little success. No one here will be buying any additional merchandise because there’s a fish or a sock or Homer Simpson on a cap. That’s just not how we roll here. Beavers is a fine nickname. And it should be kept.

Have you heard the story of Rick Ankiel?  The guy was a young starting pitcher for the St. Louis Cardinals back in 2000.  He compiled a decent regular season record, and when the Cards made the playoffs, he was selected to pitch Game 1.  That’s when things went seriously sideways for him.  His Wikipedia page gives an excellent recap of that horrific afternoon.

So he kind of hung on after that.  Mostly in the periphery, but never recapturing his command.  It was a sad sad thing to watch.  The Cards, to theri credit, never gave up on him.  They sent him all the way back down to the lowest levels of the minors and brought him back along, this time as an outfielder.  He made his Major League debut last week as an outfielder and hit a home run.  He hit two more on Saturday.  Will he stick?  Who knows.

Anyway, that’s not why we’re here at this hour.  I only bring up Ankiel because this article from AOL’s Fahouse reminded me of a name I’ve been meaning to look up for some time.  Jennifer Capriati.  The author, PostmanE, linked to another article which made passing reference to some troubles Capriati was having with her agents.  What in the heck was the guy talking about?  A little quick Googling brought me this.

Jennifer Capriati can’t remember where she was when she first had thoughts of killing herself. Between the doctor visits and the pain and the idleness, the timeline isn’t easy to keep straight.

She just remembers being boxed in by bleakness, battered by doubts about her purpose and her worth, pounding herself harder than she ever hit any tennis ball. Here she was, a Grand Slam champion and Olympic gold medalist and former No. 1 player in the world, reduced to this, a lost soul with a bad shoulder, a woman in a vice grip of depression.

Wow. Reading the article reminded me so much of my own struggles with depression four years ago.  The laying in bed for days on end.  The wondering if suicide might take it all away.  The resolve to not let it come to that.  It’s all me.

I can’t imagine what it must be like to be 30 and believe your usefulness is over.  Well, I guess I can.  In my case it was more about trying to live up to others expectations of who I should be.  In Capriati’s case, all she’s ever known is tennis and now her body has betrayed her and won’t allow her to do the one thing she knows.  So does she go back to school?  Does she go teach?  She doesn’t have anyone around to guide her.  And that’s a shame.

Over the summer I hit upon this idea of finding your “true north”.  Your purpose in life.  The one thing you’re driving toward.  There’s a website out there.  Yes, I realize it’s geared toward women, but there’s still some good stuff in there for those of us afflicted with the y-chromosome.  The article I read (which of course I can’t find) gave me some solace in the fact it can take some years longer than others to find their purpose.  So my 20s weren’t wasted.  Good to know.

Anyway, I’ve finally begun to locate my North through the fog.  I hope Jennifer can find hers’ as well.